Friday, May 03, 2024

Technology | 2009.10.21

Hugh Muir's diary

That\'s the thing about climbing Cameron\'s mountain. Once you have reached the summit, what\'s next?

Does Samantha Cameron have any idea how much her life will change should the expected come to pass next year? The jealousy, the scrutiny? Nerves frayed, friendships adrift. She was sighted in Bond Street in London\'s West End this week. She had just been to Cos , the upmarket bit of H&M, and was carrying a large paper shopping bag of theirs. By chance she spotted an acquaintance who was mid-conversation on a mobile phone. "We must have lunch," Sam said. "Oh yes," the friend replied before walking off, returning immediately to her conversation and saying sarcastically into her phone: "That was glam Sam Cam." And there will be more of that sort of thing if the bookies have it right. Hope it seems worth it.

No way, we won\'t pay, grumble MPs – even as most of them write out cheques to appease their latest tormentor, Sir Thomas Legg . Humiliation trickles from top to bottom, from the PM to the lowliest backbencher. One could almost feel sorry for them. But then one considers the position detailed in a meeting at the house on Monday when it emerged that parliamentary interns carry out around 18,000 hours of unpaid work for MPs each week. Only 1% are paid the minimum wage or above, and 44% do not even receive expenses to cover lunch or travel. The union Unite is on the case, but perhaps Sir Thomas should look at the arrangement. Then there might be some action.

Ten days to go before Gordon\'s adviser John Woodcock wins the contest to become the Labour candidate for Barrow and Furness, but the process can happily be equated with a Jeffrey Archer novel. One\'s enjoyment is not diminished by knowing the ending. Perhaps this is because the campaign has been full of incident. At the last hustings, non-members were allowed to sit in the room while the candidates waited outside. Those who have complained to the party\'s regional officials note that throughout the rival speeches Woodcock\'s partner, Mandy Telford, spent an inordinate period of time sending texts. Colin Pickthall, once the Labour MP for West Lancashire and now a Barrow resident, is one of a handful who have written complaining that the selection has been fixed for Woodcock, but all have received short shrift. So it\'s 24 October: the result; the coronation. Long live the king.

Meanwhile, things are looking up for former minister and unlikely rebel James Purnell , who has now been given the former office in Portcullis House of fallen comrade Ian Gibson , the ousted member for Norwich North. Should be nice and cosy for you, say the whips. Ignore that smell of death.

Week one of what will be a very long stretch for Merseysider and erstwhile drug-smuggling mastermind Curtis Warren . His capture was a notable achievement for law enforcement, and a model for cross-border police co-operation. Detectives in the Netherlands at one point eavesdropped on Warren, who was obviously up to no good, but what sort of no good they couldn\'t tell because none could penetrate his accent. In desperation, they flew over a fellow Liverpudlian to translate. You don\'t have to be a scouser but it helps.

Finally, we get older. If lucky we get wiser. Mark Ellen, editor of the Word , has spent 30 years tending to music magazines in one capacity or another. Above all else he has learned one thing. "Keith Richards sells, Mick Jagger doesn\'t. Both are equally inspired and enthralling – I\'ve interviewed them – but the public has somehow decided that one is an impulsive firebrand freewheeling dangerously along what he\'d laughingly call \'the arc of his career\', and the other is a cold, calculating fraudster desperately craving our love and respect. In fact the former is more calculating than the latter, but if you put Keith on the cover of your magazine you\'ll have to cut swathes of virgin pine forest to feed the presses. Go for Mick, on the other hand, and great wobbling piles of your unsold copies will threaten to block out the sun." It ain\'t right, it ain\'t fair. But that\'s life.


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